


Not the Infinity, but the Camera

by eiqhties



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Even's POV, M/M, film theory 101
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 21:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8683369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiqhties/pseuds/eiqhties
Summary: "I think that life's just like a movie, and that you can be the director of your own life. Do you get what I mean?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> Translation into русский availble **[here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/5013014) ******

Even tries to think of things in movie shots. Like the kid in _Submarine_ he's always looking, always trying to figure out how his life would be if he had a budget, and the camera he wanted, and everything shiny, shiny new.

He wants each day, each second, to be worthy of the cinema, the big screen. He can see it in detail, sometimes; the camera zooming in, focusing on him, centre shot. Here he is: Even Bech Næsheim. The camera’s in focus, it’s a close-up shot, framing his face.

Smile. Let the audience know you’re happy, happy, happy.

The camera changes again. Extreme close up, on the eyes.

Blink.

Then, the scene would be interspersed with an aerial shot - true Baz Luhrmann style, the God Shot. Helicopters and all. The establishing shot - the city in wide focus. All of Oslo, spread out across the globe - the camera finding all the pinpricks of light in the night time skyline, all the buildings and bedrooms where the lamps are still on.

He wants his world, his life, every second to be worthy of the big screen.

The thing is, with movies, even when they’re sad, they’re _worth it_.

It doesn’t matter that Romeo and Juliet, or Satine and Christian messed it up, got it wrong. It doesn’t matter that they end in fire, and blood, and sad, blue light trickling into a sad, blue world. It doesn’t matter that you finish the film feeling heavy and confused, lost over a love that never was.

It doesn’t matter, because at one point they were yellows and reds and they _existed_.

So Even thinks of his life like a movie, picks songs to match the day, outfits to match the weather; pathetic fallacy, he always liked that one. He’s into colour theory, into symbolism, and art, and the idea that his life is another attempt at _The Truman Show,_ because then there’s reason. Then there's  _order_.

*

Even met Sonja years ago. She’d been soft pinks, and softer hair, shining yellows. The boy who sat beside Even had laughed at her, and said she looked too cold to kiss. Even thought she looked like the first sight of sun after a heavy downpour - tiny threads of yellow, winding through the clouds.

She’d been like a cool glass of water after a long run, like the smooth skin of his mother’s hands. Sonja had been a quirked smile, and a warm laugh, and Even had been entranced. He’d adored her.

Here’s the part, he’d thought, where the score picks up. Here’s the fish tank, Romeo seeing Juliet’s angel wings. Here’s the first kiss - the pull, the adoration. The musical score building, building, into a crescendo, into the theme that everyone recognises.

Here’s the movie ending - the popcorn getting finished. The audience thinking, _yes_ , thinking, _they’ll get married_. Thinking, _I placed my bets on the right couple this time_.

*

Then years pass, and more years, and Even doesn’t see yellow in Sonja’s hair anymore. The camera’s not framing her right, the cinematography is off - the colours bleeding out. There are too many jump cuts, the fight scenes are too long. The script feels out of sync, like the screenwriter didn’t want to do it, and the producer was close to giving up.

Even starts finding excuses to be out. Starts finding other places to sit, that aren’t beside Sonja. He would feel bad, but the camera’s doing close ups of her mouth, frowning, of her eyes, tightening. The camera’s on a long shot and it’s showing the ten feet of space between them, the way they’ve both started swerving around each other, only to crash back together because the script demands it.

Even’s thinking _, roll credits_.

He’s thinking, this is the sequel that no one wanted.

This is the couple from the first film, except they have a new director. A renewal of the series with none of the same cast, none of the same people. The cameramen are desperately trying to find things that just aren’t there. The director lacks vision.

This is M. Night Shyamalan not knowing how to finish _Unbreakable_ , just a card with writing at the very end. Filling in all the blanks that they didn't want to film, that they ran out of time for. A brief summary of the rest of his life, and the writing reads, “Hey, I’m Even, and this is my girlfriend, Sonja”, because neither of them know how to say anything else. Because they both signed the contract. They're both stuck here for a little while longer. 

*

Then there’s Isak.

*

Isak is soft, and new. He’s barely broken in, a debut film that wasn’t supposed to hit the box office so well. An unprecedented arrival. An indie cult classic that people never thought would last as long as it did.

Isak is peachy pinks, and orange yellows. Deep reds and hot, autumn colours. Isak is _The Boy Who Couldn’t Hold His Breath Under Water_. He’s a Wes Anderson film. He’s _The Grand Budapest Hotel,_ all perfect shots and perfect colours and perfect, perfect perfect.

Even is the three colours trilogy. Even is blue, white, red hot when he touches him.

Even is Oliver Stone and Isak is Robert Richardson and together they’re like _Natural Born Killers_ , they’re something explosive and punchy and _new_ and Even could watch this movie for the rest of his life. He could loop it, and loop it, and loop it until he knew every word, in English, in Norwegian, in whatever.

It wouldn’t matter.

What matters is the shape of Isak’s mouth. The way he smiles. The way he makes Even feel like they’re bringing back the high angle god shots, the swooping zooms, the clenching feeling in the pit of his stomach.

What matters is the way Isak brings back the colours.

*

Sonja is angry.

Not yelling, not furious, but she’s angry. She won’t say it like that. Won’t tell him it in those words - but sometimes she forgets that he can read her just as well as she can read him. She’s not saying it, but he can see the pinched shape of her mouth. The clenched fists of her fingers.

She thinks that they’ve already rolled the credits, hit the end of the movie. She thinks that Even’s being stupid, that he’s not thinking, that he’s messing up the good thing they have for a stupid blip in the road. For a soft boy who’ll grow hard.

Even tells her that she’s wrong, that he’s got this, that he’s getting better.

She shakes her head. Says, “Be careful," like his mum would, and Even pulls a face.

*

It’s 2016. Baz Luhrmann directed _The Get Down_ and there are queer kids making music, making art.

Even looks at Isak and thinks he can hear the music playing, thinks he can feel the spray paint in between his fingers.

Even looks at Isak and he thinks that he’s got this, that he’s figured it out again.

*

Isak says that he doesn’t need mentally ill people in his life, and Even sees the colours bleed out of the room. It’s the record scratching noise.

Isak is _Pretty in Pink_ and Even is John Bender and the Brat Pack films are all twisting together, bleeding into each other. He can’t differentiate his eighties films anymore, except _don’t you forget about me_ is playing in the background, and Even doesn’t think this one’s very victorious.

*

He takes a week off school and rewatches Romeo and Juliet. He watches Mercutio die and feels it in his own chest, in his own body, weighing down his own blankets.

He eats cheese on toast and draws stupid pictures and thinks about Isak’s parallel universe, with the bright yellow curtains, and an Even who stays in the morning, and how _there are more things between heaven and earth, horatio_.

Except that’s Hamlet, but maybe he’s always been more mad king than he ever was Romeo, anyway. Maybe that’s why he should stay away from Isak.

Maybe.

He goes to a party, and he sees Sonja, and she smiles at him, and he smiles back, and she kisses him, and he kisses back, but he can feel it, now. He can feel the _roll credits_ , and the final song, and when he breaks the kiss he shrugs, and she shrugs, and he figures that was their chapter ending. The film moving on, the two of them drifting away.

She pulls back, he pulls back, the camera pulls back. She’s still soft, still glowing, but she’s a tealight, a candle. Even’s the breath that blew her out years ago, blew the whole thing out. Isak is a forest fire, and Even’s hands are still burnt.

Him and Sonja look at each other, from afar. The space between them is a chasm, constantly growing. This is the last long shot of the movie. This is a fade to black moment, an end of the film moment. This is her moving on to bigger, better things.

“Maybe you should try with Isak,” She says.

Her voice sounds bigger in the darkness of a fade to black. He thinks about it.

*

He thinks about it so much that he thinks himself out of it. Thinks about it so much that he thinks he can never think about it again. Thinks about it so much that his head blurs, and he feels like everything’s going backwards.

Scene after scene, moment after moment. Even is tattooing his mistakes on his skin, Even is clutching his phone in his hand and he doesn’t know who’s on the other end. Moving backwards and forwards, or round in circles.

*

Isak texts him, and Even is half running, half stumbling to get over there.

He writes a speech in his head as he goes - one fit for the end of a romance. His _When Harry Met Sally_ , his Flynn Rider moment - his lanterns into the sky, his boat on the water. He writes a speech in his head that starts with, “ _Hello_ ," and ends with “ _As you_ _wish_."

He never gets that far.

*

In a different time, in the same universe, Even gets to say his speech. Baz Luhrmann is directing it, and it goes up on lists of _Best Movie Moments of All Time_. Forget _Say Anything_ and the boombox, forget Heath Ledger standing in front of Kat singing.

This is Even, standing in front of Isak, asking him not to love him, but to try.

In a different time, there’s cameras on cranes and a budget film and it hits the cinema screens at the start of July, and people go watch it with their friends and big, salty buckets of popcorn in their hands. People whisper about him and Isak into the palms of their hands, talk about the romance, the beauty.

The way the world was going up in flames when Even was speaking.

In a different time, Even’s the one who kisses Isak, and it’s warm and gentle, and Isak melts into it like ice-cream melts into the sticky hands of babies.

In a different time, Even curls his hands in his hair and thinks _soft, soft, soft_.

*

At the same time, in a parallel universe, Even doesn’t call. Even doesn’t go. Even doesn’t see Isak, with his perfect cupid’s bow and his red snapback. He doesn’t see the way his jaw clenches when he looks at Even, or feel the heat of his skin or the shape of his smile.

*

It’s the first time in a long time that Even hasn’t felt saddened by the thought of other universes. It’s been a long time since he’s not felt the need to draw sketches of what _could_ be, or what _should_ be.

It’s been a long time since someone’s pulled him back into his skin, back into his own head, back into somewhere where the world is spinning the right way round. It’s been a long time since ‘alone in your head’ has felt calming, relaxing, in the moment.

Real.

Isak pulls him into his bedroom, slams the door shut behind him, and Even can only think that maybe, for a second, the curtains are shining yellow. Maybe, right now, with Isak, Even thinks maybe his life doesn’t need a movie to be worth seeing.

He smiles, puts his hands on Isak’s hips. Happy, happy, happy.

Except this time it’s real.

**Author's Note:**

> I think it's criminal the lack of fanfictions that explore Even's fascination with movies, to be honest. Anyway, being the Film Nerd that I am, and being wholly devoted to Even as a whole, I decided to rectify the situation. 
> 
> Films mentioned in this fic:  
> 1\. Submarine (2010) dir, Richard Ayoade  
> 2\. Romeo and Juliet and Moulin Rouge (1996, 2001) dir, Baz Luhrmann  
> 3\. The Truman Show (1998) dir, Peter Weir  
> 4\. Unbreakable (2000) dir, M. Night Shyamalan  
> 5\. The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) dir, Wes Anderson  
> 6\. The Three Colours Trilogy: Blue, White, Red (1993, 1994, 1994) dir, Krzysztof Kieślowski and Derek Jarman  
> 7\. Natural Born Killers (1994) dir, Oliver Stone  
> 8\. The Get Down (2016) dir, Baz Luhrmann (This would like... canonically be Even's favourite TV show.)  
> 9\. Pretty in Pink (1986) dir, Howard Deutch  
> 10\. The Breakfast Club (1985) dir, John Hughes  
> 11\. Memento (2000) dir, Christopher Nolan  
> 12\. When Harry Met Sally (1989) dir, Rob Reiner  
> 13\. Tangled (2011) Disney  
> 14\. The Princess Bride (1987) dir, Rob Reiner  
> 15\. Say Anything (1989) dir, Cameron Crowe  
> 16\. 10 Things I Hate About You (1999) dir, Gil Junger  
> 17\. Notting Hill (1999) dir, Robert Michell 
> 
> If you wanna come shout @ me for this then hmu on tumblr @[eiqhties](http://eiqhties.tumblr.com)


End file.
